


The performance of her life

by Tanaqui



Category: All About Eve (1950)
Genre: Blackmail, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Sexual Coercion, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanaqui/pseuds/Tanaqui
Summary: Eve has always gotten a kick out of pulling other people’s strings. It turns out it's a lot less fun when you’re the puppet.
Relationships: Eve Harrington/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Limited Theatrical Release 2020





	The performance of her life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancingsalome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingsalome/gifts).



Eve checked her step for a moment when she saw the table was set for three. Then she sailed on, allowing Addison to greet her before the _maître d’_ settled her in her chair. “Are we meeting someone else?”

Addison was busy restoring his napkin to his lap. “Yes. A young actor called John Dashwood. A stage name, of course. I thought he might be suitable to play opposite you in your next production.” He lifted his gaze toward the entrance to the restaurant and gave a thin-lipped smile. “And here he is.”

Dashwood proved to be extremely handsome, if you liked the type: square jaw, broad shoulders, fair hair and blue eyes. He was not Eve’s type at all — so few men were — but he had charming manners, spent more time listening than talking, and talked easily when he did talk. Eve also didn’t mind the way he looked at her with evident admiration without being coarse about it.

He was certainly capable of acting the part of an actor, Eve decided, but whether he could hold his own opposite her on the stage — and she hadn’t even selected her next play — was another matter. On the other hand, for all his other faults, Addison was a good critic and knew a good leading man when he saw one.

The last of the wine was being poured when Addison said lightly, “You two should go out for drinks after Eve’s show. Get to know each other a little better. Tomorrow, perhaps.”

Dashwood’s face lit up. “Oh, may I, Miss Harrington? I would so much like that.”

Eve was about to refuse — she was usually tired after a performance and it would not do her any particular favours to be seen on the arm of an unknown like Dashwood — but some sixth sense made her glance at Addison. He gave her the faintest of nods.

She looked back at Dashwood and said carefully. “That would be lovely. Why don’t you collect me from the stage door at ten thirty?”

***

“How did drinks with Dashwood go?” Addison — uninvited, but Eve knew better than to refuse him — was lounging on the couch in her dressing room a few days later while she took off her make-up.

“Fine.” Eve dragged a makeup pad savagely across her eyelid and then took a deep breath and dabbed away the rest of her eye shadow more carefully. It would never do to start developing crows’ feet like Margo Channing. 

The drinks with Dashwood had, in fact, been far from fine: she’d been tired, he’d talked far too much about his own acting ambitions and been entirely uninterested in hers, and had rested his hand on her arm far more often than she wanted. She had at least managed to decline when he wanted to go on somewhere else to dance, pleading a meeting with her agent the next morning, and had escaped from the taxi when he saw her home without letting him kiss her.

“I think you should see him again,” Addison remarked languorously.

Eve turned and stared at him. “You can’t be serious?”

“Indulge me.” Addison was flipping through a magazine, but now he held it up and showed her a photograph of Eve and Dashwood at their table at the Copacabana. “You look good together.”

“Very well,” Eve snapped. “If he invites me.”

“Oh, he’ll invite you.” Addison was back to flipping through the magazine, apparently completely absorbed by the contents.

Eve turned her attention to her other eye. _What are you up to, Addison?_

***

Three more dates — drinks twice and then a lunch — and it was getting harder to fend off Dashwood’s wandering hands. Addison, who had demanded Eve give him a key to her apartment so he could come and go as he pleased, had dropped by the day after the lunch. Eve had reluctantly fixed him a drink, and then fixed one for herself, though she normally didn’t touch the stuff before a performance. 

Addison, took a sip of his drink before wandering out of the lounge and into the room that served as Eve’s closet and dressing room. Eve followed him and found him fingering one of her dresses.

“I want you to sleep with Dashwood,” he remarked absently. “Tomorrow night.”

“What?” Eve reeled back for a moment and then took a slug of her drink.

Addison turned and ran his gaze over the room. “In here.” He pointed to the chaise longue. “There. Yes, that should do.”

“And why should I do that, exactly?”

Addison didn’t seem to be listening. Abandoning his drink on the dressing table, he dragged the chaise a little further into the middle of the room, shifted the triple mirror a few feet sideways, and then unfolded the privacy screen and positioned it on the other side of the room. Finally, he picked up the stool from in front of the dressing table and disappeared behind the screen with it.

Eve stared at the screen as she figured out what he wanted. Then she knocked back the rest of her drink.

Addison emerged from behind the screen. “Yes, that will do nicely.”

“You want to _watch_?” Eve croaked. Just to be absolutely sure she hadn’t misunderstood him, that this wasn’t some crazy nightmare of her own imagining.

‘Yes. Precisely so.” Addison gave her another of his thin-lipped smiles. “And I want you both to be completely naked. And to be able to see his face as well as yours while you do it.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll have no idea I’m here.”

“I will,” Eve managed.

“Just think of it as another performance.” Addison picked up his glass and took another sip and then handed it to her. “Remember that I know a lot about you, Eve. That I’ve helped you a lot. Figuring out what that little trollop, Phoebe or whatever it was she called herself, was up to and getting rid of her, for instance.”

He touched a finger to his temple in mock salute, before he strode out into the hallway. A moment later, she heard the front door open and close.

***

She almost stood Addison up. As she listened to Dashwood rambling on about how unfair directors were — too stupid to see what an actor like him could bring to a play — while she went through her post-show routine in her dressing room, she contemplated slinging him out and going and spending the night in a hotel.

But Addison was right. He knew far too much about her — and she’d worked too damn hard to let it all slip now.

Dashwood was delighted when she suggested they skip the club and have a nightcap at her place. She let him fix them drinks while she disappeared into her dressing room. She didn’t bother to check if Addison was behind the screen; she knew he would be. Instead, she quickly stripped off her clothes and threw on a sheer peignoir. It didn’t matter if Addison saw her naked — he’d see a lot more soon — and she suspected it might not be her body that interested him, anyway.

When she was ready, she called out, “John, darling, why don’t you bring the drinks in here?”

He stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes widening, as he took her in. He licked his lips and swallowed hard.

Eve held her arms out to him, knowing the peignoir would reveal almost nothing and yet nearly everything. “Come here, darling.”

He came over to her slowly, his eyes raking her up and down. She took the glasses from him and set them on the dressing table. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I must have you, darling. Tonight.”

She had barely got the words out before his mouth was slobbering on hers and his hands were groping her breasts through the peignoir.

She managed to turn her head away enough to escape his mouth. “I think you’re still a bit overdressed, darling. Don’t you?” She pushed him away from her and began undoing the buttons on his jacket. He tried to help, but she gently slapped his hands away.

When she had unfastened his jacket, waistcoat, shirt and flies, she turned him around and wrenched everything back off his shoulders or down over his hips. If Addison was determined to watch, she might as well make sure he got the best view possible.

Moving around Dashwood, she knelt, aware of his cock stiffening inches above her head, and unlaced his shoes. He kicked them off as she dragged his pants and underpants down the rest of the way, along with his socks. When she stood, she saw he’d hauled his undershirt over his head. She smiled grimly: totally naked, as Addison had asked.

Dashwood’s hands were on the bow that secured her peignoir. She let him undo it and slide the flimsy material back from her shoulders, while she turned them around again. Backing up toward the chaise longue, she pulled him down on top of her.

It was all over mercifully quickly. She let Dashwood’s heavy weight rest on her for a moment afterward, before lightly pushing him up and away from her. “That was wonderful, darling,” she breathed.

“Mmm.” He still seemed a little dazed. He moved in for another kiss, but she turned her head away.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I really need you to leave now. Early morning, you know.”

“Huh?” He looked at her blankly for a moment and then muttered, “Oh, of course.”

She let him thrust to his feet and dress himself, while she retrieved the peignoir and shrugged it back on. Then she sat down on the chaise longue again, with her knees pressed together and her hands twisting in her lap. Everything hurt — Dashwood had not been gentle — but she was damned if she was going to cry before either Dashwood or Addison left.

Once he was dressed, Dashwood knelt down in front of her. “May I see you again tomorrow night?”

Eve reached out a hand and caressed his cheek lightly. “I’ll call you and let you know, darling.”

Dashwood caught her hand in his and kissed it very prettily. “My goddess,” he murmured.

Then he was gone and she let out a sigh of relief. A moment later, Addison emerged from behind the screen, wiping his hands on his handkerchief. “Very nicely done, my dear.”

“I suppose you want me to see him again tomorrow,” Eve said sullenly.

“Oh no.” Adddison gave her what might have been a kindly smile. “It’s the press preview of that new production of _Mrs Warren’s Profession_. I shall be busy until quite late penning my review. No, I think Thursday will do very well.”

***

The fifth time after Dashwood — and Addison — had used Eve, Addison stepped out from behind the screen and said abruptly, “I think you should end things with Dashwood. I really see no future in him.”

Eve was about to let out a sigh of relief when Addison added, “I’ve met a very charming man who I think you'll find useful. He's an agent at William Morris. You really should meet him and get to know him....”


End file.
